As there have been haunted houses, so there have been haunted hills and woodlands. Even our own house was at times a place of strange noises. By rapping on the walls, spooky squeaking and scratching could be produced. We knew that sometimes bats found shelter behind the boards and would emerge at night to keep the mosquito population down to a minimum. Back among the mountains, however, there once lived an unusual creature who was entitled to serious consideration. From time to time on dark nights, and occasionally in the pale moonlight, the mysterious object became visible to human eyes. It even walked upright like a human being.

One farmer, awakened by the furious barking of the his dog, claimed that he saw among his frightened flock a white form several times larger than any of his sheep. When he took his gun and dog to investigate, the nocturnal apparition vanished into the shadows of the forest. Another neighbor, on hearing a commotion in his pasture, declared that in the fading twilight he beheld a tall, white-robed man walking away, carrying a sheep in his arms. Other men from neighboring farms had similar stories to tell. The rumor grew that some gigantic man, wrapped in a sheet, was stealing from the flocks.

Father had been called on for help, but all he had been able to find were the tracks of an exceptionally large bear and the fragments of partially devoured sheep. The fact was that Father had had unusually poor luck with his trapping that spring. Frequently he had found his traps sprung or turned upside down, as if someone were playing pranks on him. He wondered who could be following him around in the deep recesses of the swamps and woods. Finally the bear-trapping season for that year had been terminated by the warm weather of July, when pelts were no longer prime. Even though the bears would have thick, shiny coats again in the late fall, it was not considered wise to trap them then, when hunters would be wandering through the forest looking for other game. However, in the early winter, when fresh snows would again reveal the trails of animals, a rousing bear hunt was always eagerly anticipated.

In late December, therefore, when the leaves had fallen and were covered with a few inches of soft snow, Father took long hikes among the mountains, looking for the footprints of the elusive killer. On one of these trips he saw large bear tracks which disappeared at the mouth of a cave on Hague Mountain. The bear had taken up winter quarters where he would slumber peacefully, unless molested, until spring. As a matter of fact, the tracks suggested the possibility of two bears within the cave.

With two brothers-in-law, Asa and Jay Leach, to help, Father built a smoke fire in the opening of the den. By waving their jackets, the men tried to force the fumes under the ledges into the den, but this strategy proved unsuccessful. The animals’ sleeping quarters were either too far within the side of the mountain, or else the smoke was carried away through a vertical fissure in the protecting rock strata of the cave. Eventually, it became evident that a more daring procedure would be required. One of the men would have to crawl into the den and attempt to drive the occupant out. Uncle Jay, a fearless young man who had climbed down precipices in search of eagles’ eggs, should have offered his services for this risky venture, but his courage failed him at this time. One bear, he thought, might not be so formidable; but if there should be more than one, he did not relish the task of incurring their ire. As a last resort, Father offered to undertake the dangerous business.

Flashlights had not then been invented, and since no one had brought a candle or a lantern, a torch had to be made out of pitch-pine knot. With this in his hand, sputtering and smoking at the end of a long stick, Father proceeded into the low-vaulted cavern. Except for his long-bladed skinning knife, he was unarmed. His task was to drive the bear, or bears, into the open, so that his waiting companions could get a chance to shoot.

His progress from the entrance to the roomy section of the cave was so slow that the torch had to be relighted and adjusted with additional pieces of white birch bark, and it began to appear that, unless the objective could soon be reached, total darkness would engulf him in his risky spot. Father had just lighted his last roll of bark and was holding it aloft for a better chance to see when he beheld a startling sight. Crouched in front of him, watching with fierce, fiery eyes, were three bears, the largest of which was as white as a sheep.

Knowing that the element of surprise was his most effective weapon at this point, and holding his knife in readiness while hugging the side of the passage, Father waved his torch and shouted. A fight was not necessary. Confused by the gleaming torch and the booming voice, the bears rushed past their unwelcome intruder and made for the exit. Father turned to follow them, but since he was on hands and knees and the light had burned out, the way slow going.

On reaching the light of day again, he found two tremendously excited and chagrined companions, but no dead bears. The unexpected appearance of the white mystery bear was enough to startle the boldest hunter, and did, indeed, cause the watching brothers to pause until the bears were well in the open. When the old muzzle-loading guns were finally raised for action, one of them misfired, and the other failed to hit its mark. The ghost of the mountains was still at large.

The story the boys told of the white bear was received with skepticism and good-natured ridicule. Albinos with their pink eyes may appear in any animal family, but no one in that region had ever heard of a white member of the black bear species. It seemed extremely doubtful that a polar bear would stray so far from his icy, northern environment, and at that time there was no record in our area of the rare white bears that live on Gribble Island near British Columbia. Hence, the men who claimed that they had seen such a freak brought on themselves much banter and derision. They were advised not to get so much smoke in their eyes and warned to hold off on drinking hard cider before another bear hunt.During the following spring, however, when Father’s traps were skillfully set and baited with honey and fish, the white bear was caught. The laugh was now on the other side. People came from all around to see the white bearskin, and to hear Father tell the story of the “ghost bear.”

While it may seem to us that a museum or some naturalist would have been eager to secure such a rare specimen, eighty years ago no one was sufficiently interested to make an adequate offer for this unusual pelt. After having it tanned, Father kept it for many years. Every summer, when city folk vacationed at Brant Lake, many of them came to our house to see the skin of the white black bear.

I had not yet arrived in my pinkish bare skin when this adventure occurred, but later, when the hoary show-piece was stored on a shelf in our loft, I suffered many a fearful nightmare, due to the fact that my bed was near this spookish object. As I slept on my straw mattress on the floor, the wraith would seem to come after me in hot pursuit. In fact, at one point the dread thing did not come alive, for bumblebees, finding their way into the attic, made their home in the folds of this repulsive bundle. Believe me when I say that I shed no tears when the remains of that ghastly bear were taken into the garden and burned. Let me say, in concluding this story, that apparitions are at times difficult to dispel. A year or so after the white bear had been caught, Father and one of my older sisters both saw, high on the northern ledges of a mountain, a perfect duplicate of the ghost bear. This second one, perhaps a twin of the one that had caused all the excitement, was never seen again.

7. FATHER AND PRINCE

Because of the danger involved in settling accounts with these killers of the forest, Mother urged Father to get a dog whom he could train to help him, just as his father had done back in Vermont. Moreover, there were now little children in the family who would be delighted to have a puppy. So on one of his return trips from the Schroon Lake region, Father carried in his pack basket a playful, black-and-brown puppy that had been bred from Shepherd and other strains for a bear dog. His name was Prince, a worthy name for a very splendid dog.

Prince grew and developed rapidly on the farm, and soon became helpful in going after the sheep and cattle when it was time to bring them from the pasture to the barnyard. When his master was busy with the farming, Prince found plenty of diversion in stalking woodchucks and keeping rabbits and squirrels out of our garden. In the fall he was trained to hunt raccoon, a task in which he took great delight. Many raccoon skins were stretched to dry in our attic because Prince had chased these corn-stealing animals up trees so that they could be shot. As he matured he had more difficult duties to perform, and one of the first was in connection with an enormous bear whom I think of as Old Yellow Tusk.

Farmers whose pasture lands bordered the mountains were distressed because their sheep were being killed or badly torn. Armed with their shotguns they had watched for the return of the killer, who always seemed to come around when and where he was least expected, and also when it was too dark to aim at him. As usual, after the owners of the sheep had failed to kill the bear themselves, they asked Father to help them. Whether he was plowing or planting, Father was never too busy to go after a destructive bear.

Careful inspection of the gigantic tracks indicated that this bear must be an unusually large one, so an extra-strong trap was set back in the woods, where a sheep had been dragged and partially devoured. Even though the trap was carefully set under leaves and moss, with portions of the hapless sheep hung above, it remained undisturbed. Evidently the wary thief considered fresh mutton from another pasture more exciting adventure, and less risky.

A trap was then set farther back in a mountain pass where bears were known to travel. By using two small sticks, Jack-in-the-pulpits and small ferns were moved and set in the earth between the jaws of the trap. In spite of this careful effort to avoid suspicion and all traces of human scent, the trap was found upside down and the tuber of the wild turnip no longer there. The bear may have had his toes pinched by some other trap, and was wise to the slightest odor of concealed iron and steel.

Another ruse known to trappers was next used. Fish and honeycomb were put on branches of trees along the runway, first where there was no trap, and then where there was one. This bait was high enough to make a bear walk on his hind legs to reach it, and also would get his nose away from the scent which he feared. Success resulted from this strategy, for Old Yellow Tusk, finding a tasty lunch along his way, became careless. Evidently he did not even feel the give under his foot until the brittle stick which supported the pan of the trap suddenly broke under his weight, causing the jaws of the trap to close.

Undoubtedly the big bear was not only painfully surprised, but also resentful at having been outwitted. When he had made a few attempts to free himself, only to find that a sturdy beech clog was slowing his movement, he turned to the impediment and chewed it until the chain slipped off the end of the clog, enabling him to make his way through the woods at a more rapid pace.

A few hours later when Father arrived at the scene and observed how the earth and small trees had been torn up and the clog demolished, he was greatly excited. He began to follow the well-marked trail along which the trap had been dragged, and from previous experience knew that he might have to travel a long way to overtake the escaping animal. He recalled times when he had been able to find the broken trap, but no bear. Presently it was evident that he was to have more of this same poor luck, for, caught on a protruding knot of a fallen tree, he came upon the badly twisted trap from which the strong, bony leg had been pulled, leaving only some black, coarse hair.

The pursuit of this most-wanted criminal of the hills might have ended right there had Prince not been brought along for training as a bear dog. Prince was most eager to follow the tracks which he could smell so easily, and since this was good schooling for a dog his master decided to go on as long as daylight would permit. A few miles away, in a gloomy swamp of balsam and cedar trees, their quarry had lain down to rest. It was here that the pursued and the pursuers finally met.

A low growl from Prince gave warning that Father should proceed with caution, with his pistol held in readiness. The situation was one of real d anger, for as experienced hunters know, to stop a charging bear one needs to be armed with a heavy-caliber rifle, a .30-30, or .30-6. While I am not sure whether the pistol used on this occasion was the Smith and Wesson, or the Stevens for which the first had been traded, I know that the gun which Father used during the seventies and at the time of his encounter with this huge bear was a 32-caliber, single-shot firearm. It had a skeleton breech which could be held against one’s shoulder, but this attachment was never used. Father preferred to steady the pistol with his two hands. However, as he made his way into the swamp he was holding it with one hand, and gripping Prince’s leash with the other.

Now, although wind from a threatening storm was bending the treetops, the bear must have heard Prince’s menacing growl, for suddenly his massive head appeared above some bushes not more than fifty yards away. Dropping the leash, Father took quick aim and fired. The bullet landed a little too high on the forehead. Instead of penetrating the brain and paralyzing the beast, the shot served only to infuriate him. With a hideous snort he turned toward his pursuers, and because a jammed shell delayed the reloading of the pistol, it seemed that he would surely have his revenge. A small man, a tiny gun, and an inexperienced dog were no match for six hundred pounds of fury.

To gain time Father started to dodge behind some small trees, but apparently he was too late. With menacing tusks and claws, the largest bear that he had ever seen was already coming down upon him. In a flash, he thought of his wife and children who would be waiting for him to return home, and he remembered the Good Shepherd whom he trusted.

Call it a miracle, or what you will, but at this moment Prince leaped at the bear and began to bite him in his hind parts. The bear’s powerful paws seized the dog in a hug of death. Then, as one good turn deserves another, Father held the muzzle of the pistol close to the bear’s head, just back of his ear, and a bullet went clear through his head, leaving him limp, and still as a fallen tree.

Although this initiation of Prince as a bear dog was a rough one, he came through it with glory, and without a scratch. He did have a temporary limp, but as he smelled the carcass of the bear while the shiny black pelt was being deftly removed, he quickly recovered from it, and was soon as spry as ever. When the heavy, fatty skin was at length adjusted on Father’s strong shoulders, and man and dog turned homeward, Prince pranced about in great delight, as though to proclaim it a wonderful day.

It was long after dark when Mother, who had become quite apprehensive, heard Prince scratching on the back door to announce the return of the hunters. Her fears were soon dispelled when she saw his rapturous excitement as he rushed in. Presently she saw her husband emerging from the darkness, laden with a pack as large as those of the country peddlers, and she heard him announce, “I’ve got him!”

Our neighbors and their sheep could once more sleep in peace. For years afterward on a heap of stones back of our house, there were two large bear skulls. The first had a single penetration, while the second had two, one in the forehead where it had been made a little too high for immediate results, the second indicating that a bullet had crashed all the way through both sides. As a small boy I often played around that stone heap and saw the skulls. And in a basket of souvenirs which Father kept on the top pantry shelf was a discolored tusk which he had once seen too close to his face for comfort. This fearsome relic, which I frequently handled as a lad, suggested the name Old Yellow Tusk.

***

To provide food and clothing for his growing family, Father found it necessary to extend his traplines farther north, and to be away from home sometimes two weeks at a time. These trips were made in the fall and spring, when the weather was often cold and stormy. Father frequently found shelter in an abandoned shanty formerly used by lumbermen. When such comforts could not be found, he would camp in a cave on the mountain side, or find an overhanging ledge. With a bough bed, his skins to sleep on, and a glowing fire, he would be quite snug. Sometimes, however, he encountered dangers which threatened to prevent him from ever returning home alive. One of these, a particularly close call, occurred when Father fell through the ice of the Boreas River, where the country is mountainous and isolated.

There had been a thaw in the early part of March, and so much of the snow had melted that it was a good time for Father to set out a line of traps far up under the highest peaks of the Adirondacks, near Hoffman Mountain and Mt. Marcy. Taking Prince with him, Father left home long before daylight and by nine that evening he was at the trapping grounds. The next day he set his traps, cut some firewood with his hatchet, and made his camp as comfortable as possible. During the night, the weather changed to an intense cold that froze up not only the smaller streams but also the Boreas River. As is so often the case in the mountains, the sudden cold weather was followed by a driving snowstorm.

As Father continued making his rounds, he saw that a trap he had set on a low island in a broad expanse of the river contained a valuable otter. There was a deep springhole there into which the animal had tumbled and drowned, all of which had been planned by the trapper to make sure of his catch.

The ice appeared to provide a bridge to the island, so after making a careful test, Father walked over to the trap, secured his game, and headed back toward the bank. When he was in mid-stream, the shell-ice, which had become suspended because of the lowering of the river, suddenly collapsed and he was plunged into the rushing, icy water.

Even on such a frigid day the situation would not have been desperate had it not been for the fact that the ice was breaking into many large cakes between which one could neither wade nor swim. Father well knew that many a man had lost his life under similar conditions with no one near to lend a hand. At that moment Prince, whose instinct had warned him not to trust the treacherous ice, realized that his master was in danger. Without hesitation he made his way into the swift, cold water, and swam through the cakes of ice. When he reached Father he turned, as if to offer his tail as a towline. With the big dog’s encouragement, both man and dog fought their way toward shallower water.

Buoyed up by his thick coat of hair, and propelled by four strong legs, Prince surged through the floating ice until Father was able to grasp an overhanging tree branch and pull himself to safety. The otter, secure in a knapsack, was also saved. Now the problem was to keep from freezing in the driving wind. As though racing for fun, they ran along the trail until they reached an old log camp where Father quickly made a warm fire. Once more, Father knew, Prince had been responsible for saving his life.

Nor were these the only times when man and dog cooperated with and understood each other in an almost mystical relationship. Once when Father had finished skinning a bear and was carving out some steak to take home, he noticed that Prince had not remained near him. He thought nothing of this, since he knew that the dog soon tired of smelling dead bear and would race through the woods looking for livelier game. This time Prince found plenty, but Father’s poor hearing prevented him from becoming aware of what was going on until he had shifted his load to his back and started to make his way out of the woods. He had proceeded only a few hundred yards when he came to a spruce-covered knoll where there was evidence of a terrific fight between Prince and some bears. The ferns and small brush had been trampled, and all around were marks where huge feet had broken up the brown carpet of the forest. By examining the tracks, Father could see that two bears, a medium-sized one and a very large one, had ganged up on his dog. Knowing the courage of Prince, but also realizing that a full-grown bear could easily knock a dog unconscious with a well-aimed blow of his great paws, Father became alarmed. Blood had been sprinkled about, but neither Prince nor the bears were in sight.

Suspecting the cause of the encounter, Father began to look up into the trees, and presently saw two cub bears hiding in the branches of a tall hemlock tree. With his pistol in hand, he made another search for Prince, but, not finding him, decided that the dog had temporarily driven the bears off. Turning to the hemlock, Father considered shooting the cubs and collecting the bounty, but he disliked the thought of harming such cunning little animals. Why not capture them alive and take them to his children? He could imagine how thrilled they would be with the baby cubs. Father happened to have some strong cord in his knapsack, so he left his gun and hatchet near the tree, climbed to the topmost branches, and carefully tied up first one and then the other tiny bear. As he reached out to them, each cub gave a little cry, a message of distress that listening ears were quick to hear.

Father prepared to come down, but at this moment saw a disturbing sight. There at the foot of the tree stood the glowering mother bear, on her hind feet and apparently about to come up the tree after him. This prospect was anything but inviting, especially since Father’s gun and ax were on the ground. It was evident to him now that the bears had had a strategy. They had fought with Prince until the cubs had a chance to get up the tree, and then the large male bear had lured the dog away so that the smaller bear could remain near her young. Possibly the two bears had succeeded in killing Prince or he was lying helpless in the brush.

With grave concern in his heart for his faithful dog, and yet with a desperate hope that he was still alive and within the sound of his voice, Father called from the tree top, “Prince, Prince, come here, Prince!” Almost as promptly as he had come to Father’s aid in the swift, ice-filled river, Prince responded to the summons. Though his shoulders and head were covered with blood, he was still full of fight. Running toward the tree where his master was trapped, he sank his sharp teeth in the bear’s haunches. Surprised and angered by this rear attack, the bear suddenly turned away and ran for her life.

By the time Father was able to slide down the tree and seize his pistol, both bear and dog had disappeared among the trees. For some time Father held his gun in readiness against the return of one or both of the bears, but they did not appear. Finally, adjusting on his shoulders the bearskin and meat of the animal he had previously killed, and holding the cubs in his arms, Father turned toward home. Though he looked backward frequently with concern for his dog, it was more than an hour before Prince came in sight, considerably bedraggled and bloodied by the conflict but still jaunty.

It would be pleasant to be able to say that the little girls and the cubs lived happily together for a long time, but this was not the case. Bears grow up too rapidly, and do so much mischief that they cannot be kept as domestic pets. While the cubs were at first allowed to roam the house like puppies, they soon learned how to climb up on the pantry shelves looking for honey and sweets, over-turning the milk and upsetting everything in their way. At that time there was no zoo nearby to send them to, so the time finally came when Father had to sell them to a fur dealer who wanted them for his show window in New York City. At Father’s suggestion, the dealer put a sign in his window which read: “Bear in mind that we give a fair deal.”

Meantime, we children did not grieve many days, for our mother cat brought from a secret place in the barn five beautiful kittens.

***

Just as no hunter of bears should be without his reliable dog, no farm home should be without its dependable cat. To guard our supplies of flour and meal, a family of cats always had a welcome place in our household. Our cats were alert day and night to protect our food inside the house, and also to wage war against outside enemies.

Rats never seemed to find their way into our valley, but the ever-present mice must have smelled the aroma of Mother’s fragrant bread and considered it an invitation to dinner, for they were always looking for a chance to steal into the house. When corn began to ripen, hordes of chipmunks, using our rail fences as highways, emerged from the woods to feast on the golden kernels which we needed for our cornbread. No one could begrudge these pretty little creatures some gleanings from the harvest; but when, like locusts, they kept coming to carry away another and another grain of corn, they need to be kept in check.

Our cats enthusiastically sympathized with our dilemma and were eager to do their part, but one summer we had a cat who appeared for a time to be falling down on her job. She was nursing three baby kittens and needed nourishing food, but she would walk languidly near the fence, seemingly paying no attention to the saucy chipmunks, which were traveling back and forth from our cornfield. As a small boy, I could not understand such negligence and apparent indifference, though the mystery was presently solved.

Early one morning, when I opened the front door to go for a pail of water, I saw on our stone step three lifeless chipmunks, evidently breakfast for the kittens who were now old enough to eat meat. It occurred to me that their mother, in a well-laid scheme to throw her game off guard, had been deliberately playing the part of a harmless foe, until the right time came for supplying her family with tasty, solid food. It was apparent, moreover, that this cat was not only wise in strategy, but skillful at numbers as well, for obviously she could count up to three.

***

While Prince recovered quickly from the bruises and scratches which he received in his fights with the bears, raccoons and wildcats, his great heart gradually weakened with age until it became apparent that he should not be taken on long dangerous hunts. To be left behind was difficult for him to endure or understand. When he was kept in the house he would stand at the door and tease to be let out, as if to tell his mistress that he was urgently needed in the forest.

On one never-to-be-forgotten day someone opened the door and Prince, watching for just such an opportunity, dashed out. He smelled the tracks that he knew so well and disappeared over the hill with something of his former speed. By exerting all the skill of his years of experience and training, he overtook his master far back in the mountains where there had once occurred a lively experience with a bear Prince had helped to dispatch. This time there was no game. Father was returning home after setting a bear trap.

Prince, however, seemed to have no wish to go home. Even after a good rest, he walked down the trail only a little way, and then lay down. Father thought that the dog would gradually follow him out of the woods, as he had done on former occasions, so he went back to the house and ate his supper. Then, since Prince did not show up, Father hastily retraced his steps back to the trap, where the sight that met his eyes was almost too distressing to relate, and just as difficult to explain.

Who can tell all that goes on in a dog’s brain? Did Prince, realizing that this end was near, wish to make sure that he would never again be left at home? Or, fearing that he might not be present to defend his master from a charging bear, did he determine to prevent such a circumstance from occurring? Although he had seen traps set, and had been taught to avoid them, he had gone back to this trap and had brought both feet down hard on the pan. His front legs were caught and badly crushed. Perhaps he had brought his feet down so emphatically to tell Father that if they were not going to be together any more, all trapping should be given up.

Heartbroken, Father knelt beside Prince and tried to do what he could do to save the dog’s life. Prince, however, had other plans, for he growled and snapped at the hands reaching down to help him. Father might have used chloroform in such an emergency, but it was not available. Besides, it was too late, for suddenly the tired heart ceased to beat and the valiant dog obtained his wish to remain in the forest forever.

8. THE BIG CATAMOUNTNot long after the death of Prince, Father heard of some puppies over in Vermont which had been especially bred for bear dogs. They were a mixture of various strains—Shepherd, Saint Bernard, Black Bull, and one or two others. Making a hasty trip over to the Green Mountains, Father returned with one of the prize pups in his packbasket. Our joy was unbounded when we saw the golden head and paws of the puppy extending from its sung cover. We would now have a pet to play with, a dog which would accompany us through the woods to the spring and go with us after the cows in the evening.

The first task was to select a name for the new member of the family. Because of the long, thick fur on his neck and chest, we thought he resembled a lion; and so we called him Lion. At first, of course, he was far from lion-like, and really quite timid. On his first trip to see the cattle in the barn, Lion tumbled over backward when one of the oxen lowered his head and breathed on him. Later on, however, he grew more courageous; and once when he had carelessly let his tail extend between the boards of the pigpen so that a pig was tempted to taste it, Lion, in retaliation for the insult, leaped into the pen and nipped the pig on one of its ears.

While Lion was still too young to go after bears, Father made his trips alone. On one such trip he didn’t carry his pistol, as he had been doing some repair work on it; of course, that was the time when he needed it most, for he found a very lively and unfriendly bear in one of his traps. Observing that the trap and clog were securely hitched to some bushes, Father decided to use a club on the bear. He cut one which he thought would be the right size, approached the bear, and struck at his head. The bear brought up a paw and easily knocked the heavy stick to one side. He did the same thing again and again, until Father cut a lighter stick which could be handled with greater speed. With this he feinted once, then followed with a quick blow high up on the bear’s snout. This comparatively light blow stunned the animal completely. When telling of this encounter later on, Father claimed that a bear can be knocked senseless just as easily as a raccoon, if the blow lands in the right place.

Another exciting experience occurred when Father was traveling alone to one of this more remote traplines far up in the Adirondacks. He stopped at a log shanty where some woodsmen were working on a lumber job. They told him they had been terrified because of the presence of some large, unknown animal in the vicinity. None of them dared to go out of doors after dark, and they warned Father that it would be exceedingly dangerous for a man with defective hearing to venture alone up the mountain with so small a gun.

From what he was told about the nocturnal prowler, Father inferred that the animal was a lynx, a fierce member of the mountain lion family. In addition to the strong, sharp claws of a lynx which can tear a dog to shreds, it has an ear-splitting screech, similar to that of a woman in mortal terror. A man who had previously faced a charging bear and killed it with a single bullet described his reaction when he heard for the first time the hideous cry of a lynx. It happened when he was hunting deer in the Maine woods. The silence of the forest was suddenly rent with a noise so terrifying that the hair of his head actually stood up straight!

The lumberjacks in this Adirondack camp had frequently been awakened from sound slumber by such blood-curdling cries, but it was more than the frightful scream that had made them afraid. As they explained to Father, who had planned to stop with them only one night, the catamount had actually pounced upon one of their men who had ventured out after dark, and had clawed him so severely that he died. They had heard that a lynx seldom, if ever, attacks a human being; and so there was much discussion as to what the daemon-spirited beast might be.

The more Father heard about this beast and the way it often leaped upon the roof of the shanty at night, the more eager he became to go after it. Early the next morning he selected two strong traps and headed for the dense forest of spruce and hemlock on the slopes above the camp. He soon saw a trail of large tracks that led upward, but presently he saw deer tracks which caused him to deviate from his main course and to proceed with stealth. After he had located and shot a small deer, a portion of which he needed for bait, Father turned back to the winding path and made for the rocky terrain higher up.

After an hour’s climb he came to some boulders at the base of a jagged cliff, where he saw feathers of partridge, fur of rabbits, and bones of deer. For all he could tell, fiercely-gleaming eyes might already be watching him from a secluded lair under the nearby ledges. Father decided to set his traps here. Bending down two stout saplings for spring poles, and securing them in an arched position with stakes, he fastened the chains of his traps to the tops of the bent trees, covered the jaw of steel, and hung up the bait.

Everything had to be done with care and skill. In fact, Father took so much time and pains that the men at the shanty had begun to fear for his life. Late in the afternoon, when dark clouds were beginning to bring on an early evening, they saw Father approaching the camp carrying some object on his shoulders. It was the hind quarters of the deer which he had shot earlier. Though pleased with the prospect of feasting on venison as a welcome change from pork and beans, the men good-naturedly chided their guest for hunting deer instead of tracking down the big cat. Father replied calmly: “Let’s wait until tomorrow, and see what happens.”

When Father went up the mountain the next day to inspect his traps, he approached them cautiously. He was not afraid, for whether traveling through the forest by day or by night, he was never disturbed by the thought that some animal might attack him. However, he had learned that it was wise to walk stealthily when nearing a trap which might have large game in it. Presently, through an opening among the branches of the evergreens, he saw that he had made a catch, and that the animal looked like a deer. There had been no sign of deer at the particular spot where he had set his traps, but if one had accidentally been caught, he knew that he would be teased even more than on the previous night. Then he saw that the creature had torn bark from trees and had broken limbs and branches as far as it could reach in every direction. A closer view revealed an extra large lynx, caught by a hind leg and suspended just a few inches above the ground. The color and markings of the animal, however, were different from those of any lynx or wildcat which Father had previously caught. Because of its enormous size and the fact that it had fatally attacked a man, he guessed that it might be a Canadian lynx, of which he had heard. There is even the possibility that this animal was one of the remaining pumas, or mountain lions, which in earlier years ranged throughout the forests of the northeast to Maine, spreading terror when seen or heard by early pioneers.

At any rate, when the trapper returned to the lumber camp, he and his huge,ugly-looking cat became the center of interest and respect. The men, now delivered from the cause of their fears, urged Father to stop over with them whenever he happened to be trapping in their vicinity.